


Fine Control

by kettish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: But just barely, M/M, Padawan Obi-Wan, QuiObi week 2018, Training, he's gonna be Knighted soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 04:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: For QuiObi Week 2018, Day 5: "Training." Qui-Gon decides Obi-Wan needs to work on his fine Force control and provides a new stimulus for him to ignore.





	Fine Control

QuiObi 2018 “Training”

 

Obi-Wan strolled the corridors towards the private training room Qui-Gon had booked for the afternoon, boots tapping and echoing down the deserted hallway, and wondered what his love was up to.

 

It had been several months now since Qui-Gon had attempted to cure Obi-Wan of his jealousy and inability to let go of attachments. When it had backfired spectacularly and ended with Obi-Wan’s feelings being deeply hurt, Qui-Gon had sat down to his meditation mat and spent several hours sifting through memory and impulse, and had discovered that he himself was the one who was jealous and could not let Obi-Wan’s affection go. They had finally spoken honestly with one another, and to Obi-Wan’s joy, Qui-Gon had asked to begin a romantic relationship with him.

 

Since then, his life had been nothing short of amazing. He was close to his Trials, waiting only for the next round of testing to begin, and had the lover of his dreams to lean against at home and sleep with at night. And the sex...Obi-Wan didn’t blush in the hall as he walked, but it was a near thing; the sex was fantastic. Qui-Gon was an inventive and generous lover, and as versatile in bed as Obi-Wan. “Lover of his dreams” definitely was a good description.

 

During the work day, however, they did their best to maintain business as usual: training, discussing Obi-Wan’s future career, fulfilling their regular Temple duties. Today was the same as usual, and Obi-Wan expected they’d be working on Force control during their training, as the room Qui-Gon had reserved was shielded. Qui-Gon had mentioned introducing new stimulus while he attempted fine-control tasks, and they always started out with that stimulus being the only one before adding it to the others he’d learned to ignore.

 

His palmprint opened the door, keyed to allow him access for the next four hours, and he entered the silent room. The sound of his footsteps was slightly muffled by the softer material of the floor, meant to cushion impacts, and Qui-Gon was already stripping down to his inner tunic and neatly folding and setting aside the outer tunic and his boots. Obi-Wan allowed himself to observe with pleasure the trim lines of Qui-Gon’s waist and the hard muscle of his forearms and shoulders for just a moment before turning his mind back to business and following suit.

 

“Fine control today, I assume?” he asked, and Qui-Gon smiled.

 

“Correct,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “Loosen your clothing, please, then go sit on the mats in front of the parts.”

 

Arrayed on a mat in the middle of the room was a collection of parts that Obi-Wan recognized as being a deconstructed comm unit. This too was a common element in their training; there were times when field Jedi might need to rewire comms in order to send longer-range transmissions, or encrypt them, or destroy tracking devices, and they were cheap enough that the Order didn’t mind Masters using them in this manner. The mats were soft under Obi-Wan’s feet, the ‘plast-blend material slippery against his socks, and as familiar as the sheets on his bed at home. He crossed them, sat down before the materials as instructed, and waited.

 

Qui-Gon was fiddling with something in his clothing with his back turned, so Obi-Wan began planning how he would put the comm together, plotting the first few steps so that he could devote less time to thought and more to ignoring whatever Qui-Gon had concocted to distract him. Sometimes it was loud noise, or just loud enough and repetitive; sometimes it was mental distractions, like when Qui-Gon elbowed his way into Obi-Wan’s mind through their bond and sang a children’s nursery song off-key over and over. (That was not one of Obi-Wan’s fondest memories of the man, and hadn’t been even before they had started their romantic relationship.) Very occasionally it was an actual physical touch of some kind, like tickling when he was much younger, or itching, or even cold or heat. 

 

“Ready?” Qui-Gon said as he walked up to stand next to where Obi-Wan sat. “Good. Begin.”

 

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and tuned everything out, snapping inwards to shut out all unwanted external sound and touch and sensation, and reached forward through the Force to begin delicately slotting together the first few pieces of the comm. Distantly he heard Qui-Gon’s footsteps circling, watching him work, and he put aside wondering what was going to happen in favor of using a tiny spark of heat to fuse two components together. The footsteps paused right behind him, and there was the creak of floor mats, and then hot breath ghosted against the back of his neck and made him jump.

 

The comm pieces fell to the floor, and Obi-Wan twisted to look back at Qui-Gon in confused shock.

 

Qui-Gon stayed where he was, leaned over behind Obi-Wan’s seat, and grinned.

 

“Ready?” he asked again, and Obi-Wan’s pulse was suddenly racing. He swallowed, took a deep breath to fortify himself, and let it out steadily. He looked at Qui-Gon once more and then nodded resolutely. “Good. Begin again.”

 

Obi-Wan delved deep into himself again, and picked up the pieces he’d dropped, examining them. He felt the connections he’d made, determined they were intact, and shivered when QUi-Gon breathed deeply against the back of his neck again but ignored it in favor of picking up the next piece and screwing it in where it belonged. 

 

The breath moved from the back of his neck to his ear, and then there was the touch of skin against it as Qui-Gon nosed along the spot where his ear and jaw met. It was a particularly sensitive spot for Obi-Wan, but he swallowed hard and shakily located another piece. It took long moments.

 

Qui-Gon’s tongue touched that spot, and then he sucked Obi-Wan’s ear lobe into his mouth. Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s hand on his waist and realized he was in trouble; already he was getting hard, and the lust-haze Qui-Gon always seemed to inspire was making it difficult to think. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, needing the extra sensory input in order to find the casing for the battery, and Qui-Gon tsked in his ear.

 

“Having trouble?” he asked, his voice pitched low in the way Obi-Wan had fantasized about for ages. If he’d been standing, Obi-Wan would have been weak in the knees. As it was, it took the starch out of his spine, making him want to lean back into Qui-Gon’s warm, firm chest, and he scolded himself for even considering it.

 

“No,” Obi-Wan lied, tone even, and found the casing. It slid over the small cylindrical battery like a glove, and Obi-Wan swallowed hard at the suggestive movement. Damn that man, now batteries were sexy. Qui-Gon chuckled.

 

“Lying,” he tutted. “Someone has been a terrible,” Qui-Gon’s hand slipped up his waist, “terrible,” back down again, cupping his hip briefly, “influence.”

 

_ I fucking wonder who, _ Obi-Wan thought, sarcasm and delirium mixed, and Qui-Gon’s chest shook with suppressed laughter. Ah. He hadn’t shielded that well enough.  _ Oh well. _

 

“Keep going,” Qui-Gon said through his mirth. Obi-Wan growled but reached out for the next piece. The comm was only a quarter of the way assembled.

 

Qui-Gon’s hands continued to move up and down Obi-Wan’s sides, reaching up and forward to just shy his of chest before shifting and going back and down and cupping his hips, thumbs caressing inwards towards the cleft of his ass. It was torture, each pass up and down coming closer and closer to erotic zones, and Obi-Wan was fully erect, throbbing in his linens and extremely glad Qui-Gon had asked him to loosen his clothing before they began.

 

He was halfway done, had just snapped a piece into place, and the up-and-down motion of Qui-Gon’s large hands had--not lost its teasing edge, but had also gained something close to comforting, and Obi-Wan had been able to concentrate. He heard the click that meant he’d gotten the part seated correctly and then Qui-Gon pinched his nipple, no warning, and pleasure followed the pain like fire catching dry tinder.

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” Obi-Wan grunted as it caught him by surprise, hips pushing forward and chest arching back, and then he lunged forward again reflexively to catch the comm with the Force. He just managed to save it from hitting the ground, but such a lapse in focus would normally be reason to start the entire exercise over again from the beginning and shamed him. “Dammit, Qui-Gon--”

 

“Keep going,” Qui-Gon encouraged, and one of his hands dipped into the crevice between groin and thigh, sliding across the tendon there. Obi-Wan’s cock twitched.

 

“Would you rather stop?” Qui-Gon asked, pausing, and it reassured Obi-Wan. He shook his head, and after a second Qui-Gon began to touch him again with those broad sweeping motions. Except this time, he felt Qui-Gon shift, kneeling up to put one thigh outside each of Obi-Wan’s, and felt Qui-Gon grind, hard and hot, against his back.

 

“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon asked against his ear.

 

“Please don’t stop,” Obi-Wan said.  _ Said. Not whimpered. _ Qui-Gon laughed again, and Obi-Wan finally had to smile; there was real happiness in his voice, and this mischievous, clever side of him was something he’d seen far too seldom before. Now it came out more and more often, and Obi-Wan always enjoyed it in the end.

 

Not necessarily in the beginning, but always in the end.

 

“Then keep going,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan felt pressure as Qui-Gon undulated against his back again. 

 

His control was shaky by now, and honest-to-Force disgrace for a senior padawan who was slated for his Trials, but Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in him to care. He’d caught on now that this wasn’t just training, but also play; the rules were different here. He enjoyed making Qui-Gon happy and proud, though, reveled in it, and so he put his mind back to what he was doing and tried his best. By now Qui-Gon was steadily rutting against him, moaning showily, pinching Obi-Wan’s nipples and doing his best to make him drop the comm again. Another quarter of the way to completion, he felt a tug on the already-loosened ties to his trousers, and paused, groaning.

 

“Cheating,” Obi-Wan chided. Qui-Gon smiled against his skin at the breathy tone of his voice, and tugged again, finally undoing the tie completely. “Oh, Force…”

 

“You’re almost done,” Qui-Gon encouraged him, and slid his hand towards Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan held his breath in anticipation, then lost it in a huff when Qui-Gon veered away last second to slide around to his ass.

 

“Asshole,” Obi-Wan grumbled, turning his attention back to the nearly-completed comm, and then jumped when Qui-Gon ran his finger over Obi-Wan’s hole. 

 

“It is,” Qui-Gon agreed, rubbing gently. Obi-Wan jammed a piece of the comm’s cover in place with more force than was necessary, on fire from head to toe with what Qui-Gon’s skillful hands had wrought in his nervous system, and he was so close to done. He was leaking, precum dampening his linens, and he couldn’t stop his hips from shifting slightly into Qui-Gon’s hand and forward, back and forth. 

 

“Almost done,” Qui-Gon said softly. “Find the next piece.” Obi-Wan cast out frantically, finding it after long seconds, and picked it up only to drop the piece--but not the comm--when something wet touched his ass. That same finger as before teased at him, but now it was covered in slick lubricant, and Obi-Wan was desperate.

 

“Please,” he burst out, and Qui-Gon complied. He couldn’t push in more than a little, thanks to their position and Obi-Wan’s pants, and without a thought Obi-Wan bowed forward, pulled his pants down and off, and spread his legs so that Qui-Gon could reach further. Exercise put aside, Qui-Gon gladly knelt up, fingering him more deeply, and Obi-Wan panted, his eyes screwed shut as Qui-Gon’s free hand stroked up and down his back soothingly.

 

Their breathing was loud in the shielded room, bright white walls and lights leaving nothing to the imagination, and Obi-Wan had never felt so on display than at that moment--but neither did he mind, because his only audience was the one he loved, to whom he would never mind showing all of himself. He cried out as Qui-Gon bent over him to lick and bite at his neck and shoulder, shoving his hips back, loving it all.

 

“You didn’t finish the comm,” Qui-Gon pointed out, voice rough with passion.

 

“I don’t fucking care Qui-Gon, if you’re going to fuck me get on with it or I’ll finish myself and  _ then _ the damn comm!” Obi-Wan snapped. Qui-Gon breathed out hard like he’d been gut-punched and then scrambled back to snatch up the lube and pour it onto himself. Then he was back on top of Obi-Wan, pressing carefully into him, and Obi-Wan howled; Qui-Gon bottomed out, withdrew, and snapped his hips to slam back into him hard.

 

“Force, fuck--yes--just like that,” Obi-Wan groaned around thrusts, reaching down to take himself in hand like he’d ached to since the start of the whole exercise. 

 

It was heaven, everything he could ask for, his ass stretched wide and just the right kind of touch on is dick, and between Qui-Gon’s pace and the teasing he’d put up with for the last half hour his orgasm quickly approached. He could feel his balls draw up tight, the tension in his back and groin ready to snap, but Qui-Gon beat him to it for once--he groaned, shoving into Obi-Wan and holding him tight, shaking and gasping until he was done. The sounds he made were enough all on their own to get Obi-Wan off, and went like a firecracker, come splattering onto the mats below him loudly.

 

Once he’d wrung the last of it out of himself, Obi-Wan put his other arm back down and settled to all fours, catching his breath and enjoying the deep, visceral pleasure of Qui-Gon’s weight atop him and in him. Qui-Gon was quiet, probably listening to his breathing or his heart as he liked to do and enjoying the come down from their high. After a few minutes, he carefully pulled out and sat up; Obi-Wan winced at the sound of liquid dripping onto the floor, but they would already have to clean up. What was a little more?

 

“I hadn’t planned to go quite that far,” Qui-Gon admitted, slouched as he knelt. He didn’t look upset about it. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh.

 

“Your fault I can’t finish building the comm, then,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon leaned to the side to take a look, and realized the largest piece of the outer casing now had, ah,  _ extra lubrication _ .

 

“It won’t be lubricant in about half an hour,” Obi-Wan muttered, catching his thought, and Qui-Gon laughed.


End file.
